Shadow Whispers
by RenaKitten
Summary: After saving the known world and losing everything, what does one do with their life? A mercenary job for the ex-Knight Captain leads to interesting developments. Post OC with only brief references to the game. Rated T for now, will change in the future.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a plot idea that took off sometime last year. Updates should be fairly infrequent since unlike my other stories, I don't have 50 chapters pre-written. This story is entirely new and my own. The only reason it's even tied to NWN is because I used it as my main character's background. There will be some new characters in this story, characters that may surprise you.

Disclaimers: With the exception of a few familiar characters, everything bloody thing in this story is my intellectual property.

* * *

Chapter One

The tavern was just like any other tavern along the Sword Coast, dirty and dingy, the food an atrocity and the ale watered. It was funny how after a while they all started to blend together, one indistinguishable from the next. There was one major difference on this night in this tavern though. The boisterous laughing of drunken people and the riotous sounds of a fist fight breaking out weren't hovering on the air. Instead all attention was riveted by a small man by the fire pit in the center of the room.

The bard held the attention of all in the taproom. With baited breath the villagers listened as the flamboyant man spun a tale of a band of saviors who appeared during Neverwinter's darkest hour. In the recent past an unlikely group of elves, humans, dwarves and demonkin all had blended together to fight the shadow that threatened the world. The tapestry of the story was wove through the night, a retelling of events that were far enough in the past that they no longer carried the very real thread of fear with them.

Aleaha snorted softly into her tankard as she raised it to her lips for a long swallow, ignoring the barely touched trencher of unrecognizable 'food' in front of her. _Ah,_ she thought to herself, _the difference four years makes._

With uncommon talent the bard pulled the different threads of the tale into a picture clearly visible to the minds eye of his audience. He paused at dramatic moments, causing a collective intake of breath in the otherwise silent crowd. The little man in gaudy colors played his audience perfectly. Though the patrons were by no means rich, the take on tonight's performance would let him live comfortably for several weeks.

Disgusted, Aleaha set heavy pewter mug down on the sticky table with a thump, earning a glare from a nearby patron for the disturbance. Cool eyes stared at the irritated ruddy face of the patron, quickly assessing the threat, and just as quickly dismissing it. Unnerved, the farmer turned back to the bard, fighting the urge to rub the back of his neck where the skin prickled in instinctual fear. He may have been drunk, but he wasn't drunk enough to miss the emptiness in the slender woman's eyes.

Unconcerned at the man's discomfort, she took up the dagger that served as an eating utensil and poked at the lumpy mass of the so called stew, looking for something that at least resembled meat. Having found a possible candidate, she raised it delicately to her lips, taking care not to drip the strange brownish-grey sauce over her soft leather armor. The tough meat sat heavy and dry on the tongue, its natural grease and the unnatural gravy doing nothing to improve the texture or taste.

A barmaid, pretty in a stocky farm-bred way, came over to refill her empty tankard. Instead of leaving after the drink was full, she stood transfixed beside her as the story neared an epic point, a battle at the keep and a betrayal from the inside. Hordes of undead were swarming the inner courtyard as Aleaha took a few final sips of the bitter ale and reaching into her slim purse, pulled out a few copper coins. Tossing them on the table casually she turned to leave only to be stopped by the barmaid's whispered question.

"Hey, aren't you going to stay for the end? It's just getting good."

A small humorless smile barely twisted Aleaha's lips. "I already know how this particular story ends," she said softly as she continued out the door, leaving the maid glancing curiously after her before being pulled back into the story.

*****

The night air was cool and the autumn wind had touch of winter's cruel bite in it. A slight figure pulled its hooded cloak more tightly around them as they moved through the shadows quietly, slipping past the drowsy gate guards with nary a sound to alert them to the passing. The high full moon illuminated the road that led from the small village until it reached the woods where even Selune's bright gaze had a hard time penetrating. With eyes accustom to the deep dark of near midnight the figure passed easily through the trees before coming to a stop at a thick cluster of underbrush that looked no different from the cluster that grew just a few feet away.

The figure cocked its head, as if listening before a gloved hand pushed back the heavy hood that obscured the wearers face. Confident that no one was watching, Aleaha crouched down and heedless of the stinging hairs, reached under a group of nettles to pulled out the single bag that was hidden there.

She reached inside, fingers deftly finding a small lump of smooth cool stone. Holding the formless chunk of obsidian up to the cold blue light she examined it thoughtfully. "It's time again Arden. I have need of you," she whispered as she tossed the stone to the ground.

A dense fog rose from where the stone hit the forest floor, flowing around until it converged into a solid form. A huge black warhorse stood where there was once only a small piece of volcanic glass. The horse snorted a greeting as Aleaha rubbed his velvety nose.

"It's good to see you my friend." In response, Arden pushed his heavy head against her chest, nearly knocking her over with the force of his affectionate nudge. Tangling her hands in his mane she swung around and pulled herself up onto his back. "We have a long way to go tonight. I'm to meet Daril at one, so we must run swift." She could feel the horse's excitement at the prospect of a good run. For a moment she felt pang of guilt, it had been to long since she had last called her faithful friend and he had to be itching tear across the landscape.

With barely enough time to tighten her grip Arden took off into the night, his long stride eating up the ground beneath him. A sense of freedom that was becoming more and more rare came over Aleaha as they raced through the night. She lifted her face to the moon, enjoying the biting whip of the cold air as they moved so swiftly it felt as though they flew.

It was all to soon that they reached the edge of a vast estate. Arden slowed to a stop as the heavily guarded gate house came into view. Slipping off his back, she pulled the hood back over to her head and looked for an entrance. "Wait here," she murmured.

Silently she mentally reached out to the deep shadows, pulling them to her and wrapping them around herself like a comfortable blanket. In the blink of an eye she was gone; the only hint that she had even been there in the first place was a calmly grazing warhorse.

*****

"Damn it! Where is she?" Lord Daril Trannyth paced angrily in his dimly lit study, beady eyes narrowed in annoyance. The low fire in the large marble fireplace cast his sharp features into harsh relief. Not for the first time, his assistant made a mental comparison to his Lord's features and those of a skeleton.

"The message said she would be here at one sir."

Lord Trannyth spun to pin his assistant with a steely glare. "I'm well aware of what the note said you fool! It's one o'clock now, so where is she?"

As he spoke, the large clock in the corner rang a single bell. As the chime's resonance faded away a woman's husky voice came from behind the large mahogany desk. "Actually, _now_ it is one o'clock."

Lord Trannyth jumped at the voice and turned to see a pale woman sitting casually in his leather chair, one booted foot propped up on the desk. "You wanted to see me?"

Both men looked her over, taking in the long dark blond hair hanging loose around her shoulders and the grey blue eyes. With her nearly translucent skin and delicate features, she reminded them of a porcelain doll, not a deadly efficient freelancer who's name was only whispered in certain circles.

"You're Shadow?" Trannyth asked skeptically.

"So they say," she answered with a shrug.

"Prove it."

Aleaha smiled coolly and pulled a red leather bound book from a fold in her cloak. Opening it to a random page, she began reading aloud.

"Twenty-fifth of Marpenoth. Lady Trannyth found out about the ruby necklace I purchased for Lisel. That hag demanded I get her matched diamond earrings and coronet before she would leave me in peace. Just a few more weeks and I won't have to worry about that bitch of a wife anymore."

She closed the book over her finger and looked up with feigned interest. "Didn't Lady Trannyth leave to visit an ailing sister two weeks ago? I wonder if anyone has seen her yet."

As Lord Trannyth spluttered red-faced in anger, his assistant merely raised one well groomed eyebrow. "I believe sir, that if she was able to get your journal out of that locked case, she is who she claims to be, or you didn't pay that wizard enough for the wards."

The assistant was awarded a small smile this time, faint, but real. Aleaha set the journal down on the desk and steepled her fingertips together. "Did you want to tell me what it is that you wanted, or shall I continue with a little bit of light reading?"

Face no longer blotchy, Trannyth took a deep breath, visibly trying to recollect the unflappable façade that the nobility were so good at. With a covert glance at his occupied desk chair, he casually walked over to his side bar and poured himself a glass of amber colored liquid. A nod to his assistant had the man leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Once they were alone, Lord Trannyth raised his glass to Aleaha in silent offering.

At her head shake he dashed down the contents before beginning to pace the length of the room. "They told me that if someone needs something… special done, you're the person to talk to."

"Depends on just how special the deed is."

"There is something I want, and you will get it for me."

She cocked a brow at his presumptuous tone. "And what is it you want exactly?"

"A weapon."

"Do I look like a blacksmith to you?"

Eyes narrowed in annoyance, his tone was clipped. "It's a very special weapon. One that's belonged to my family for generations."

"Just what's so special about it?"

"Sentimental value," he ground out from behind clenched teeth. "There's nothing else that would concern you."

"Really Daril," she said dryly. "Why don't you let me worry about what would or would not concern me. Besides, my services don't come cheap." She glanced around at the rich furnishings in the room with an appraising eye. "You could probably afford them, but it's a high price for a simple family heirloom."

"It has _very_ sentimental value."

Aleaha's voice didn't lose any of its businesslike tone, but her eyes grew hard in the light from the fireplace. "Then I'm not interested."

"Excuse me?"

"There's something you're not telling me Daril," she chided. "And even if it is a simple sentimental search and return, then I'm definitely not interested."

Lord Trannyth stared at her. This little mercenary was telling _him_ no? He was incensed by her gall. Handing tightening dangerously around his empty glass, he reappraised the situation. The past four men he had sent to recover the weapon had all disappeared. This little chit was supposedly the best and time was running short.

In the ensuing silence Aleaha waited calmly, gazing at the agitated man steadily. "There's a curse," he said finally. "Until it is returned to family vault, in every generation, all the males of this family will die before their time."

He raised beseeching eyes to hers, silently begging for help. Tapping a fingertip against her lips she considered him thoughtfully. "Alright," she said at last. "Tell me what I need to know and I'll find it."

*****

Arden never even glanced up as the shadows around him grew darker and shimmered slightly. Unconcerned with anything other than the amount of sweet green grass he could consume before it was time to leave, he didn't move as Aleaha stepped out of the shimmering shadows. A light touch to his neck commanded his attention at once though. Sweet grass forgotten, he craned to nibble gently on her hair.

"He's lying," Aleaha said with dead certainty. She grinned suddenly, an uncommon occurrence in the recent years. "This should be interesting."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers: With the exception of a few familiar characters, everything bloody thing in this story is mine.

* * *

Chapter Two

The sun was just over the horizon as Aleaha walked into the quiet inn. Although she was cloaked and hooded, the burly proprietor instantly recognized her and gave a welcoming nod.

"Shadow. It's good to see you. Been a while."

"You're up early Gregor."

Gregor smiled at the low familiar voice. "You know how it is when you run a place like this, up with the sun, down with the moon. How've you been?"

"Well enough."

"Oh, I almost forgot, a man came by looking for you a few weeks ago. Said it was urgent."

"Did he leave a message?"

The inn keeper disappeared into the kitchen, returning momentarily with a folded sheet of sealed parchment. "Said if we saw you, to give you this."

A quick glance at the seal revealed the crest matched the one on the leather bound journal she was reading from last night. Not bothering to open it, she slipped it into a pocket. "Did he ask about anything else?"

"Yeah, he wanted to know a lot about you, where you were from, how recently we'd seen ya. I just told him that we hadn't seen you in months and that you may have headed back up north to visit your family."

Aleaha pulled out a gold coin and slipped it casually across the bar top. Just as casually the inn keeper dropped it covertly into his pocket with a practiced gesture. "We have your old room available if you're interested."

She nodded. "I'll probably be around for a few weeks."

"Sure thing lass, I'll get the missus to get it ready for you." At the fond name Aleaha suddenly froze. Just as quickly she recovered with a nod of thanks, but not before Gregor noticed. "Something wrong?"

It's just no one's called me lass for quite some time," she sad quietly.

The bald man smiled, folding his hamhock like arms over his chest. "Well, you'll always be a pretty little lass to this old man, no matter how old you get. Speaking of which, you ever get lonely, you let me know, alright." Aleaha smiled slightly at the overly lecherous wink Gregor gave her.

"And Hildi would have both of our hides."

Gregor smiled fondly at the mention of his sharp tongued wife. "That she would. One of the reasons I love her."

"Who do you love, you overgrown letch?"

Both turned to see the tiny woman coming down the stairs, a mock glare on her face. As small as her husband was large, she barely came up to his shoulders. "Shadow of course."

A small fist punched him lightly in the arm. He grabbed at it, moaning dramatically. "You wound me darlin'. You know you're the only one for me."

She snorted, even as she rubbed affectionately at the arm she had hit. "The only one who'd put up with you, you mean." Hildi gave Aleaha a warm smile. "Good to see you Shadow. You going to be around for a bit?"

"A while, yes."

"Well, sit down and have something to eat while I get your room ready. You looked half starved."

Obediently Aleaha wandered into the kitchen and cut herself a chunk of a strong yellow cheese to go with the crusty brown bread that still had steam rising from it. As she ate, Gregor came in to check the stoup that was bubbling happily on the hearth. "Has the Trannyth family been in this region long?" she asked casually between bites.

Gregor paused in his stirring and gave her a knowing glance out of the corner of his eye. "As far as anyone can remember they've always had the family estate here. Goes back some five hundred years or so. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. Know anything about them?'

A sip of the soup and several shakes of a seasoning container gave the innkeeper time to think. "Last two hundred years or so have been a bit odd. Tales say that most of the men in the family have gone mad. There was whispers about people hearin' voices and some dark things going on. People disappearing, screams in the night, that sort of thing. Stopped suddenly about seventy-five years ago, but that family still isn't quite right. Lots of _accidents_ around the property, if you get my drift."

"What about the wives?"

"Who do you think the accidents happen to?"

"Any of the men die young?"

Gregor thought about it and shook his head. "Not that I know of. You might want to talk to ol' Nayan though if you can find her. She would know a lot more. She's a storyteller from a ways back, so take what she says with a grain of salt."

Aleaha stood up and tossed another gold coin down on the table, much more than what necessary to cover the meal. Gregor didn't even glance over as he put the final ingredients into the soup but when he spoke, his voice was concerned. "You know I don't like to ask too many questions, but watch yourself Shadow. That family is powerful and they're a nasty piece of work.'

Nodding her thanks for the food and the information she headed up the stairs towards her room in the back. The corner room on the third floor was easily defendable if need be. The two windows had vertical drops on the other sides and only one wall adjoined another room. As Aleaha stepped into her room, she blinked at the cheery sunlight streaming in. Eager to stop the pain in her light sensitive eyes she pulled the heavy curtains over the windows throwing the room into immediate twilight.

Once more at ease she looked around the room. The bedding was fresh and Hildi had thought to bring a pitcher of water and a large bowl so she could wash up. Although not an overly frequent guest, Aleaha had come there enough over the last few years that the couple had developed an understanding to her needs. Pulling her gloves off with her teeth, she set them on the nightstand and poured some of the cool water into the basin. Dipping a nearby towel in the water she raised it to her face and began to scrub off the accumulated dirt.

Her eyes were heavy with a need for sleep, but she lingered over her washing. Twisting her hair into a knot and pointedly ignoring the bed she unclasped her cloak and laid it carefully over the chair in the comer. The short bow strung across her back was propped up against the head of the bed within easy reach if needed. Etched leather bracers were loosened and slid off, resting neatly on top of the previously discarded gloves. The leather armor and undershirt followed suit until she stood bare chested.

Dipping the towel back into the water, she squeezed until the water ran out through her fingers and back into the bowl. Damp towel dripping water down her skin, she wiped off the smell of sweat and horseflesh.

All too soon she was done. Once the buckles on her armor were refastened, she pulled a blade out of the sheath at her thigh and slid it under the soft clean pillow. Another blade on the nightstand, and yet another went under the mattress. There were weapons enough to protect her from anything brave enough to attack her, but nothing could protect her from what she knew was coming.

Settling onto the bed and with her cloak draped over her as a blanket, she closed her eyes and waited.

*****

Downstairs Gregor and Hildi stood side by side in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready for the early risers among their patrons. Hildi punched down the dough that had been rising since the previous night and asked about Shadow.

"Did the girl eat anything? She's looks like she hasn't had a good meal in ages."

Gregor smiled at the concern in his wife's voice. Childless themselves, Hildi nonetheless had a strong mothering instinct when it came to their patrons. "She ate, but not much. Seemed more interested in asking questions." Gregor's smile turned to a worried frown as he reached for the egg basket. "Wanted to know about the Trannyth family."

"What'd you tell her?"

"Some of the stories that ol' Nayan used to tell. Told her she would be the best person to talk to if she wanted to know more."

"Did you warn her that that family is no good? Never has been. Bad blood I say."

Gregor stepped away from where he was cracking the eggs and gathered his wife in his arms. "Of course I did. Don't worry about Shadow. She's a grown woman and something tells me she can take care of herself." He bent to kiss a smear of flour off of Hildi's nose. "Besides, it's not our place to stop her from chasing after old ghost stories."

Hildi tightened her flour covered arms around him. "Maybe not, but the poor girl has ghosts enough in her eyes. I don't understand why she would want to run after more."

*****

"_Aleaha, move it! This whole place is coming down! _

"_Where're Khelgar and Neeshka? We have to get them out of here!"_

_Aleaha's shadow self was frozen, the panic rising like bile in her throat. It was like being a spectator in one of the dockside plays, only the play she was watching was her own life. She watched as her physical body searched around wildly for her friends and felt the scream of anguish tear at her own throat when she spotted the two bodies crumpled together. In life they bickered like children, but in death Khelgar had covered the wounded Neeshka with his own body lo protect her from the falling debris. _

_An ominous rumbling came from above and larger chunks of the old ruin started to come down. Knowing what was coming, the shadow Aleaha struggled to pull herself out before she had to see anymore. _

Heart pounding and sweat cold on her brow, Aleaha bolted upright. Pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes she took several deep breaths. Every time she went to sleep it was the same thing. Each time she closed her eyes for four years she's had to relive the deaths of her friends over and over again. It was no wonder she slept as little as possible.

A glance out the window put the sun barely at midday. Today was better. There were some days when she didn't even get two hours of sleep before the dreams caused her to wake with a pounding heart and adrenaline coursing through her body.

She pressed the cool towel against the back of her neck, calming her racing heart. Tossing the wet towel back into the basin with a careless splash she leaned against the night table. Head bowed, she didn't bother looking into the tiny mirror that hung on the wall. She knew what she's see. Haunted eyes more grey than blue that were underlined by a persistent shadow and hollow emptiness looking back at her. Pale, nearly translucent skin, a testament to her lack of time in the sun and spoke of too much time hiding in dark places. Her hair… she remembered a time when her hair was lighter, streaked from long marches under the noon sky. Now it was dark blond, nearly brown, more fitted bending in at night.

A few deep cleansing breaths chased away the last of the nightmare. When she did look up, the mirror reflected a calm unflappable person who had steadfast determination written all over her face. The haunted Aleaha of just moments before had disappeared and in her place stood the strong, resourceful woman that habit and rumor had dubbed Shadow.

Rolling her neck to relieve some of the tension at its base, she gathered her scattered weapons and placed them back into their sheaths. Hooking the clasps of her cloak at her throat, she gave the room a last look and headed back down stairs.

The taproom teemed with life when she arrived, a sharp contrast to when she originally went upstairs. People from all walks of life were sitting down for luncheon at one of the few inns along that coast where a person could get a decent meal. A nod to Hildi and she was out the door, blinking at the brilliance of the midday sun. She pulled her hood up to block the glare and started to make her way to the edge of the woods where Gregor had mentioned that the storyteller Nayan lived.

It didn't take long to find the little hut nestled in the trees. The small house was crude, but it had a certain homey quality to it that Aleaha found appealing. The wood pile was stacked high and covered with oil cloth in preparation of the cold winter that was almost on the doorstep. A hole lined with rocks and partially covered with an old barrel lid stood ready, waiting to be filled with dairy and cheeses, and other things that needed to be kept cool, yet close by.

Aleaha knocked on the door and entered when a surprisingly strong voice called out for her to enter. Inside the hut the packed dirt flood was covered with rushes. Sweet smelling herbs hung from the rafters and a haunch of salted venison was tied to a hook in a comer. An old woman sat hunched near the hearth waiting for the kettle hanging over the fire to start steaming. With a gesture of her wrinkled hand, she motioned for Aleaha to take a seat on the stool opposite her.

"What can Nayan do for you child?" Her voice cracked and warbled with age, her hands shaking as she probed the fire with a long stick.

"Gregor said you could tell me about the Trannyth family."

"Ah, yes, Lord Trannyth. Nasty man," she murmured as she stared into the fire.

Aleaha looked at her expectantly, the minutes ticking by slowly as the old woman remained silent. Finally, thinking that perhaps the Nayan had dosed off with her eyes open, Aleaha cleared her throat loudly.

Nayan tore her unfocused gaze away from the fire and gave Aleaha a brilliant smile. "I'd love a big bushel of apples. Some nice red juicy ones to last me through the winter."

Getting the hint, Aleaha rose from her chair with a wry smile. Women like this had no use for money as payment. From the piles of chopped wood and the edible goods around the house, it seemed that Nayan made a fair living from her trade. Grabbing an empty basket on her way out the door, Aleaha headed out towards some apple trees that she had spotted growing along the path.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers: With the exception of a few familiar characters, everything bloody thing in this story is mine.

* * *

Chapter Three

The last of the autumn apples were difficult to find, but after some searching and a lot of tree climbing, Aleaha finally had enough to satisfy the old woman. Balancing the basket on her hip she pushed open the door of the hut and went inside.

Nayan was waiting with two mugs of fragrant tea at the ready as Aleaha set the basket on the wooden table that served both as a food preparation area and a place to dine.

"What a sweet girl you are, bringing an old woman some food so she won't starve through the winter."

Aleaha hid a smile as the woman cackled with pleasure. Reaching for a knife she began quartering two apples and setting the slices on some earthenware plates that were stacked neatly nearby. "Does that act really work on others?"

Nayan's cackle turned into hearty laughter. "Oh, you're a smart girl. I knew it the moment I saw you. Yes, it works on some of the others." Her voice was strong and clear, like it was when she had told Aleaha to enter when she had first arrived. "I've found that the older and weaker that others think I am, the more likely they are to do some errands instead of trying to toss some worthless coins at me." She changed her tone again, once more the old woman. "What use does an old woman like me have for coin? I'm not going to go buy those frilly dresses that show far too much skin to be decent that you young ones wear now."

Aleaha chuckled. "You're good at that. Lots of practice?"

Nayan nodded as the other woman handed her a plate of apple to go with her tea. Balancing it agilely on her lap, she leaned forward conspiratorially. "To tell you the truth, I wouldn't mind one of those frilly little things. When I was young, I had all sorts of dresses that showed far too much skin. Ahh, the good old days.'

She sat back and munched on an apple slice. "Now, what would you like to know lass?'

At the name Aleaha shook her head with a sigh. "You know, I'm twenty-seven years old. People should really stop calling me that."

Nayan raised a knowing brow. "When you're as old as I am, everyone is young. Besides, I don't think that you have a problem with the name because of your age. It has more of a personal meaning to you doesn't it?"

"So you tell fortunes as well as stories?" she asked, dodging the question.

"Maybe if you're good, I'll read your tea leaves when we're done."

"How about I drink said tea, and you tell me a story about Trannyth?"

Popping the last of her apple in her mouth, Nayan smiled. "Fair enough." She sat back, her voice taking on the rich depth that was shared by bards and certain paladins. A depth that made a person want to sit up and pay attention.

"Local legend says that the house of Trannyth is a blessed one. My grandmother always told me stories about them. Stories about how rich they were and how young they always seemed to be. Each generation their wealth grew and each generation the men of that family seem to live longer and longer. Ten years could pass and whoever was currently Lord Trannyth would look no older than he did in the previous decade."

"So you're telling me that Daril is much older than he looks?"

"No. The blessing ended with his grandfather. He was living a long life. Why, my grandmother used to tell me about how handsome he was in the prime of his life. A prime that lasted thirty years. For three decades, he never aged a day. But suddenly, one day about seventy-five years ago, it all stopped. Each year that he had somehow managed to hold at bay came back with a vengeance. One afternoon he was fit and hale, not a day over forty-five. By nightfall he was seventy, and by morning he was dead. His looked like he was a hundred years old. There were whisperings of a curse on the family; that their good fortune had run out. Ever since then, each one has lived a normal lifetime, something that distresses them to no end, I can assure you."

Aleaha took the last bite of her apple and chewed on it thoughtfully. "Everyone I've spoken to tells me what a nasty family they are, but from what you just said, I don't see why."

"Of course not dear. I haven't told you about the other side. See the thing about blessings and good fortune; they're only one side of a coin. The other side has curses and horrors." Nayan took another sip of her tea before continuing. "While the patriarchs of the family were blessed, the villagers were not. People began to disappear."

"And the Trannyth's had something to about it." Aleaha sat back on her stool, satisfied that the story was starting to make sense.

The story teller frowned at her. "Hush child. Who's telling this story? You or me?"

"Apologies, madam bard."

Placated, Nayan nodded her acceptance regally. "It started out one or two would vanish every few years, nothing out of the ordinary really. A few villagers going missing isn't anything to be concerned about. Perhaps they just left to answer the call of adventure, or ran away with a lover. Happens all the time all over Faerûn. But after a few generations, the vanishings started to speed up. One every six months, then one every quarter. The changing of the seasons were no longer a time to celebrate, it was a time of fear."

"At each equinox and solstice someone would disappear, never to be seen again. And that's when they noticed that Lord Trannyth no longer seemed to be just blessed with long life, he had just stopped ageing."

Nayan spooned in more tea leaves and covered them with steaming water. She let it steep while giving her small audience a chance to absorb what she said. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the wheels turn behind the other woman's gaze.

"Has this always happened? That they stop aging?"

"Not to this extent. They have all lived unnaturally long lives, but none as long as he. In fact, most of them went mad before they had a chance to. On their deathbeds nearly all of them rambled on about voices and whisperings that no one else could hear."

"Interesting," Aleaha muttered to herself. "Gregor mentioned there were a lot of accidents the property and that they tended to happen to the wives.

She smiled fondly at the mention of the innkeeper. "Ah, Gregor was always interested of these types of tales. He remembered this story correctly. There were murmurings starting in the village, talk of the villagers rising up and storming the manor house. They felt that maybe the sense of wrongness that they got from that family was more than just jealousy of their privileges and wealth. They started to blame them for the disappearances."

"No one knows exactly what happened, but people stopped vanishing at such an alarming rate. It returned back to what would be considered normal. Unfortunately, this was the time that accidents started happening to the ladies of the household. Shortly after giving birth to a fourth daughter, the current Lord Trannyth's grandmother was found murdered in the woods. Poachers, they said."

"They swept through the village and found the man who did it. Took him to the manor for punishment." She stopped to take another drink of tea. "Thing was, the man who they said killed her, wasn't a poacher and couldn't have been in those woods. Bad leg you see. It pained him greatly to walk any distance."

"The people grumbled, but there was nothing they could do. Life went on and the memory faded to the back of the mind. But then, the second eldest daughter suffered a great tragedy. She was going downstairs late one night, and tripped. Poor dear broke her neck, or so everyone was told. They buried her in the family mausoleum along side her mother."

"Six month later, there was another tragedy. The youngest daughter, barely two years old, was kidnapped. A frantic search was launched, but she was never found. The family was grief-stricken. Another two seasons passed and Lord Trannyth came out of mourning. He thought to find himself a new wife to take his mind off his recent losses. He needed no heir, having a son who was in his thirties and a grandchild from him already and two daughters remaining, so he was free to marry a wealthy widow whose property adjoined his own."

"It was a beautiful wedding. Everyone was so happy… except for the eldest daughter. Those who attended the nuptials said she looked upset, scared almost. No one could tell why. A person would think she would be happy. Her father had just married a woman who brought in enough land that it nearly doubled their already vast estate, not to mention the money she brought with her."

"Looking back, it was almost as if she knew what would happen. In fact, there were those claimed she was responsible."

Despite her intentions of just getting information, Aleaha found herself caught up in the story. Discovering that she was leaning forward eagerly, she abruptly sat back and tried to pull herself out of the tale that Nayan was weaving around her. "What did they say she did?"

Nayan shook her head sadly. "The new Lady Trannyth died on her wedding night. A spark from the fireplace leaped and set the bed curtains ablaze, or so the story goes. She perished before the servants could get her out."

"And others figured that the daughter had something to do with it?"

"That's what everyone thought. The idea was that she was angry that her father had tried to replace her mother. When she flung herself out of the roof and on to the flagstones four stories below six months later, people believed that it was from guilt."

"Wait, so all these 'accidents' occurred every six months?"

The old woman nodded, satisfied that her audience was connecting the dots.

Aleaha did some mental calculations. "How old did Trannyth look when he married the second time?"

"Mid forties, my grandmother used to tell me."

"Forty with a thirty year old son," she mused quietly, more to herself than anyone else. "You said when he died he also looked like he was in his mid forties. How long after all his did he die?"

"Twenty years, one daughter, one son's wife, two granddaughters, and unknown villagers later."

"And they all had accidents?"

She nodded. "Thrown from horses, another kidnapping, murdered by servants, you name it. If it was bloody, it happened."

"After Trannyth died and his son took over, what then?"

"Well, none since them have long lives; however the family still seemed to be cursed. All the daughters and wives had a nasty habit of disappearing or dying in accidents."

"The current Lady Trannyth has left to visit a sick sister." Aleaha waited for Nayan to respond, already knowing what she would say.

"A sick sister?" Nayan snorted. "More like Daril is infatuated with his new mistress and his wife was making his seeing her difficult." She glanced down at her teacup before setting it to the side.

"So, now you tell Nayan a story. What's your tale? Why did you want to know all the old about that family?"

Aleaha grimaced. "You already know my tale. It's been told over and over through the years."

Nayan smiled knowingly and reached for Aleaha's empty cup. "I see. An unrequited love made you leave your home to seek adventure out in the wilds?"

Aleaha blew out a breath. "Yeah, something like that.'

"Happens all the time my dear," the old woman said kindly. She looked down into

Aleaha's teacup and her brow furrowed. "What did you say your name was child?"

"I never did."

A perceptive gaze peeped up at her for a mere moment before Nayan returned to examining the leaves at the bottom of the cup. "You have shadows in your past and in your future, but there is also light." She frowned and spun the cup. "Something from your past haunts you. There is something else in here as well, but it's hard to make out." She stared harder at the murky leaves. '"Do you have anything to do with the temples?"

Surprised, Aleaha's brows rose. "No, not at all."

"Odd." Nayan set the cup down. "I would swear it shows the icon for a religious figure." She shrugged. "Perhaps it's something in your future. I must warn you though; it is not a benevolent figure."

"Did you see anything else?" Aleaha asked, interested.

"They're tea leaves, not a play being acted out for our amusement. What do you expect, a minute by minute commentary?"

The corner of Aleaha's lip twitched wryly. "Again, my apologies." She rose to her feet and with a slight but respectful bow of her head, thanked Nayan for the information.

The woman's voice stopped her on the way out the door. "What ever hidden thing you are looking for; perhaps it may be best for everyone if it stays hidden."

Aleaha turned back slightly at the warning. The woman's sudden insight of the reason she was there was uncanny, but then again considering the questions she had asked, maybe it wasn't. "Perhaps," she said quietly before walking out into the dusky twilight.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimers: With the exception of a few familiar characters, everything bloody thing in this story is mine.

* * *

Chapter Four

Aleaha returned to the inn, somewhat surprised to find that the day had turned into dusk. She hadn't realized she was in Nayan's home for quite so long. Having grabbed a hunk of bread for her dinner, she climbed several flights of stairs to her room. Sitting down on the corner of the bed she reached into her cloak pocket. She pulled out the missive that Trannyth's men had left for her and breaking the seal, gave it a quick glance.

It was just like all the others that had been left for her at various places all over the Sword Coast. Daril needed to speak with her on a matter of utmost importance; lives were at stake, blah blah blah. Aleaha tossed it to the bed. He had certainly wanted to talk to her and now she knew why. It seemed that it was time to pay another visit to his estate and find out what the true story was.

Pulling the curtain open with one hand, she glanced out the window as she chewed thoughtfully at the nutty bread. The clear evening sky was darkening to a deep violet, edged in golds and reds like the embellishment on a fine lady's gown. Selune and Lathander were meeting in a particularly beautiful dance this twilight. She watched for several long minutes as the sun sank slowly below the horizon, leaving just the velvety purple of night.

Brushing the crumbs from her front she twitched the curtain closed. Quietly she headed down the stairs and past the patrons enjoying their evening meal. As soon as she was out of site of the building, she opened her bag and pulled out the small obsidian piece that only vaguely resembled the shape that was bound to it. A mere whisper and Arden was with her, nickering and tossing his head.

She held out her palm, fingers straight so he could lip at the cubes of sugar she had grabbed from the kitchen. Arden may have been from another plane of existence, but he had a sweet tooth as strong as any Faerûnian horse. Aleaha stroked his soft muzzle as he crunched loudly on the sweet morsels.

With her fingers knotted in his silky mane, she pulled herself on to his back. "Time to go visiting," she murmured. The barest pressure on his sides and he was off, heading back to Trannyth's estate.

It didn't take long until they were standing before the high walls of the Daril's home. Silent as the shadows others had named her for, Aleaha gathered the surrounding darkness to her, feeling it drape over her like a well worn cloak, soft and familiar. She made a swift gesture with her hands and rent a tear in the fabric of space around her. The split in space and sky looked no different than the surrounding night, but she could sense the hole as clearly as if a door had suddenly appeared before her. Keeping her eyes trained on the area that she could see through the open gate house door, she stepped through the newly made fissure, appearing on the other side of the gate before her foot even touched back down.

"Now, if I were a mausoleum, where would I be?" she asked herself quietly after she slipped past the guards at the entrance. A glance to the left and right revealed nothing other than well manicured lawns that stretched as far as she could see. She remembered something that she once read, a custom about the dead being buried in the west and the markers facing east. Some sort of symbolic meaning about the death of a day and rebirth of a new one.

With no sun to guide her in the correct direction, she still looked to the night sky. The stars were laid out before her in a familiar tableau. Having shunned the day in favor of the peaceful night there were many times when she simple sat and looked to the sky for answers. The constellations were as familiar to her as her own face.

Directly above her was Belnimbra's Belt, a straight line of five stars. Just off of that shone the Brow Star, the topmost star in Mystra's constellation. Although the Brow star pointed due north, there was another grouping she was looking for. There it was. The Caltrop, the Arrows of the Gods, the Sun's Signpost. It was a group of three lines, all with a cluster of smaller stars at the tips, converging to a point that marked due east. It was said by the nomads of Anauroch that they were flaming arrows launched by the sun goddess to mark her way.

Flaming godly arrows or not, it still worked like a heavenly compass. Still cloaked in impermeable shadows she turned and headed west, moving swiftly out of view of the great house and past the point were the neatly trimmed lawns blended into the more natural landscape. The grounds were huge, and it took quite some time before she made it to the family mausoleum.

It rose up before her from a small grove of trees, a marble monstrosity of architecture. It may have been white in the day, but Selune's cold gaze turned the thick stone walls to a dingy grey. A chill wind rustled the tree leaves and threw moving shadows over the ground and building. Aleaha took a few steps to the entry, her feet crunching loudly on the carpet of fallen leaves that surrounded her destination.

Two winged figures flanked the heavy etched iron door, their pupilless eyes staring at her in silent reproach. Tall pillars supported the graceful arches that decorated the marble and the ivy that climbed the sides and twined around the pillars seemed to reach out in grasping, hungry tendrils. There was a sense of quiet forbidding that emanated from the cold walls, as if anyone who entered was bound to be met by a terrible fate.

Aleaha snorted. Everything about it was so clichéd she couldn't help but smirk. The place looked like every mausoleum in every horror story she'd ever heard. She tipped her head in a mocking bow in the direction of the house to congratulate them on a fine effort.

Still smirking slightly, she knelt at the door and pulled out the slim leather case that housed her lock picking tools. Setting them next to her softly, she tugged off her gloves and tossed them on top. Her hands reached out to the door, sensitive fingertips skimming over the etchings in the metal with a practiced touch. No wards made themselves known and she couldn't sense any non-magical traps. She frowned.

The nobility tended to inter their dead in caskets that had strong anti-decay enchantments on them. In their vanity, they wanted even their corpses to be beautiful forever. At death, the bodies would be cleaned and then dressed in their best clothing and jewels before being encased permanently in their new magical bed. The enchantments would make corpses that were laid to rest even hundreds of years ago seem as fresh as if they had just died. So why then, was the door not warded? Grave robbers were a constant problem and any powerful wizard could put impassable spells in place.

Frown still in place she brushed her gloves to the side to withdraw two slim metal picks from the leather case. Setting them to the lock that was cleverly hidden in the whorls and loops of the etchings, she probed around the interior trying to get a visualization of the makeup. A few practiced twitches of her fingers later and a tiny satisfying click came from the lock.

_Now, all I have to do is go down there, _she thought as she tugged her gloves back on and put away her picks, _take a look at the bodies, and see what really killed all those people. Nice of them to make my job easy. Trying to figure out what killed a skeleton is a major pain in my ass._

She pushed open the door and slipped inside. Ever burning torches lit the interior to a soft glow. With a glance she noticed that they produced no smoke and left no soot marks on the pristine while marble walls. She raised an eyebrow, impressed. Making a mental note to look into those herself the next time she had the opportunity, she headed into the large gilded chamber. The interior of the mausoleum was one room and its only contents were… books?

Several tomes stood open on pedestals. The ones against the far wall had pages that were yellowed and cracked with age. As they marched along the edges of the walls the pages appeared to get softer, whiter. She skimmed a few of the open pages, starting at the oldest ones. They appeared to be journals, accounts of the lives of the patriarchs of the family. The first one was of a man called Veric. The book was open to an entry dated seven hundred years ago that described some sort of business dealings in a neat spidery handwriting. As she tried to turn the pages, they crumbled to dust under her fingers.

She headed to the two most recent ones, Daril's father and grandfather, she presumed. She looked through them quickly, not exactly sure what she was looking for. A clue to what exactly happened she guessed. Aleaha could tell nothing from the little time she stood in front of them, other than they wrote about the most inconsequential things and that they were extremely pretentious. She would need more time with them to see if there was anything usable in the books.

With a shrug she started to pick up the book only to stop when it wouldn't budge from its pedestal. She tried another one, and another. It was all the same. They were magically locked in place and although they could be read, they couldn't be moved. Aleaha huffed an irritated breath through her nose. "Well, that's rude," she muttered. She briefly considered taking the whole pedestal, but dismissed the idea as more trouble than it was worth.

Thinking it was time to find the bodies she studied the walls and floor carefully, looking for a mechanism to get to the crypt. After poking and prodding at various stones that seemed to be set differently from their brethren she finally noticed that two of the book stands seemed to be spaced further apart from each other than any of the rest of them. She stepped between them and felt alone the wall, searching for any indication there was a door there, a seam, a chink, anything. As her weight shifted forward, she felt a stone move under her feet and a solid section of wall slid open before her.

Torch lit stairs led down and she could feel a stale breeze across her face, bringing the scent of must and age. The stairs and walls were cut from rough hewn rock; a surprise considering just a few steps up was all marble and gilt. She ventured down cautiously, visually testing each step for traps before putting her weight on it.

Reaching the bottom without incident, Aleaha looked around the underground chamber. It was large, but not as large as she would have thought necessary to house seven centuries of Trannyths. The walls were notched from floor to ceiling with hollows for bodies. Wooden doors in various states of decay had metal plates embossed with the name and date of its occupant. Her fingers dragging lightly over the surface of the plates, she went through the room until she stood before a plate from the right time period.

"Why hello Elsabeth," she muttered. "Let's take a look and see what really killed you, shall we?" She swung open the polished door that enclosed the stone hollow and stared at the resident inside.

"Well this is… unexpected," Aleaha mused, cocking her head to the side. Where there should have been a casket holding a conveniently preserved body, there was only a metal urn holding ashes. She moved from one door to the next only to find the same thing in each one. All the bodies from the time of Daril's grandfather on had been cremated.

Heading to an earlier generation, she pulled open the door and peered inside. This time a casket contained a skeleton, its rich clothing from a previous century a banquet for moths. She turned to leave, but before she could retreat up the stairs, she found herself pausing before the oldest marker. The door was nearly rotted away and she could see the decrepit casket within. Carefully, she opened the door, briefly reading the name on front. As she looked into the casket, the dim torch light glinted off of something gold.

A heavy gold ring set with a blood red ruby encircled the fleshless fingers of the man's skeleton. "Sorry Veric," she said politely as she wiggled the ring off the boney finger. "Can't have this trip be a total waste. I'm sure you understand."

Her prize freed she held it up to the light. The thick band was engraved with an arcane scrip she didn't recognize. As she turned it slowly, the ruby winked and flashed oddly. Aleaha frowned. There was something wrong with the ring, something that she couldn't put her finger on. With a shrug, she dropped it into one of her many pockets and closed the door gently on Veric's coffin.


End file.
